Luke’s Last Surprise: One Condemned Man Joining Another as the First in Paradise

This Sunday marks the end of the Christian year.
Next Sunday we hop on the next liturgical cycle of readings – it will be Year A.
Each year focuses on a particular gospel. Next year it will be Matthew’s. This year it has been Luke’s.

When I began this preaching year, I wondered what Luke would offer us.
I wondered how he might inspire us, challenge us, lead us.
And now, at the end of the year, I find myself saying one thing above all: WOW.
Luke has surprised us. Luke has stretched us.
Luke has shown us the kingdom of God in places we would never have thought to look.

This Sunday is a WOW moment,
a hinge on which we hang our wonder,
before the new year opens again.
Next week we begin again,
not from cold, not from scratch,
but already warmed by hope,
already knowing what God’s kingdom looks like
in the dominion of darkness.

We will return to the manger
knowing now what Luke has shown us all year –
that God’s kingdom begins with the smallest,
with the least, with the last instead of the first,
in a vulnerable baby held by exhausted parents
on the edges of empire.

These are the readings (Colossians 1:11-20 and Luke 23:33-43) that crown our year.
And this is where Luke has been leading us all along:
not to a palace, but to the place of the skull,
Not to a gold throne, but to a wooden cross.
A king.
A sign nailed above his head.
And a thief beside him.
That’s the gospel picture.
That’s where Luke brings us when the year ends and we crown Christ our King.

Our other reading, from Colossians, may seem difficult at first –
until we recognise it as a hymn.
A hymn praising the God who rescues us from the dominion of darkness,
who strengthens us with endurance,
who qualifies us for the kingdom of his beloved Son –
the kingdom of light,
the kingdom where Christ is King.

Luke paints the scene.
It is the “dominion of darkness” (to use the phrase from Colossians).
The place is the place of the skull,
Death Row in the Dominion of Darkness:
there is the smell of death
and the overpowering smell
of cruelty, injustice and wrongdoing.
There are three crosses.
One is for Jesus, the others for two criminals crucified either side of him.

Luke gives them very different voices.
One sneers – placing him with those who mock, jeer and insult Jesus.
“He saved others, let him save himself if he is who he says he is.”
(In other words, he isn’t who he says he is.)
“Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”

The other criminal rebukes him, saying the two of them deserve their punishment.
Then he protests Jesus’ innocence. “This man has done nothing wrong.”
And in that moment he is just right.
He is right to defend the defenceless
against the forces which have conspired against Jesus.
“This man has done nothing wrong,”
and yet he is facing the same sentence, only worse,
because insult is added to injury.

Then he turns to Jesus.
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom”

This criminal is the first to defend Jesus publicly.
He is the first to take his stand with Jesus.
And Luke wants us to see him.
This figure.
This last, least, condemned man
who becomes the first to declare Jesus innocent
and the first to receive a royal promise.

He is the last person in the world you’d expect
to be the first to defend Jesus –
(we are led to believe that there is no honour amongst thieves),
but here he is in the picture of paradise – alongside Jesus.
The last becomes the first in paradise,
that kingdom of love –
a relationship, not a place.

And here – right here – you can almost see it happen:

And perhaps this is Luke’s final surprise for us:
that the first to enter paradise with the King is not a saint or a scholar or a faithful disciple,
but a criminal who can offer Jesus nothing but honesty and trust.

He offers no record of virtue.
No proof of goodness.
No last-minute achievements.
He can’t even lift his hands in prayer.
All he can do is speak the truth —
about himself, about Jesus, about the kingdom.
And Jesus takes that truth, that tiny seed of faith,
and makes it bloom.

“Today you will be with me in paradise.”

And that paradise begins there,
in the dominion of darkness,
with a king crowned not with gold but with thorns,
and a wrongdoer who sees more clearly than anyone else.

The only crown Jesus could ever wear is a crown of thorns.
They’re the thorns of scorn, the barbs of bitterness.
They’re our failures, our wounds, our complicity,
our inability to rule even ourselves.

But the kingdom Luke has been showing us week after week
is a kingdom where the last come first,
the lost are found
and where the crucified King gathers in his arms
those the world’s unjust powers condemn.

This is the WOW moment.
Everything has led to this,
when the thorns begin to flower.
This is what Luke is intent on showing us.

His sequel, Acts,becomes the story
of the cross in bloom.
The frightened disciples become bold and generous.
The failures become witnesses.
A crippled beggar stands up and walks.
An Ethiopian outsider becomes the first fully Gentile convert.
A persecutor becomes an apostle.
Prisoners sing hymns; jailers are baptised;
enemies share bread.

Again and again the thorns flower.
Again and again the barren places bear fruit.
Again and again the last become first.

This is where the King of Love leads us:
into a rule of life that puts the last first
and sees thorns flower with grace.

All year long Luke has shown us a kingdom that grows in unlikely places,
and now at the last,
he shows us the unlikeliest place of all,
the place of the skull, Death Row.
Yet even here, if we look through Luke’s eyes,
Something ]begins to bloom.

At the place of the Skull grows the tree of life.
The crown of thorns flowers with grace.
The King of Love
and the convicted criminal
become the first couple in the new creation –
the first to walk the way of mercy,
the first to step into the garden of God’s future.

This is how the Christian year ends:
not with worldly triumph,
but with this strange, saving beauty –
a King who makes the last first,
who turns a place of execution into a place of promise,
who opens paradise to the least likely of all.

This is the kingdom of God and the gentle thorn-crowned rule of Jesus.

Luke 23:33-43

When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals – one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’ And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.

The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, ‘He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.’

The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar and said, ‘If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.’

There was a written notice above him, which read: this is the king of the jews.

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: ‘Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’

But the other criminal rebuked him. ‘Don’t you fear God,’ he said, ‘since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.’

Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’

Jesus answered him, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.’

A final judgement: the parable of the sheep and goats

The last Sunday of the Christian year (liturgically speaking, the celebration of Christ the King, the Sunday before Advent (Year A)). The readings from Ezekiel 34 and Matthew 25 (the parable of the sheep and goats) are printed below.

The liturgical year leads us to this. Today is the last Sunday before the new year starts next Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, when we start a new round of readings, rediscovering the gospel for our dark times. The liturgical year with all its readings and reflections leads us to the kingdom of heaven, to the coronation of Christ the King and the admission that the love and mercy that makes his majesty should be the rule of our lives. It is our final judgement.

Jesus sees himself with those who are hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick and in prison. They are his brothers and sisters. He calls them his family. “Just as you did it to the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me”. (Matt 25:40). 

Many of us will be starting to write Christmas cards – some may be of the “holy family” but this passage shakes up our preconceptions of the holy family. The holy family, (the royal family if we accept Christ the King), is made up of those who are hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick and prisoner. Jesus is a king like no other, his kingdom is like none other, his royal family is like no other royal family.

It is just like us to idealise the nuclear family – Mum, Dad, baby (and the pet, the wee donkey!), but Jesus “extends” the family. Matthew has already told us of the time when Jesus’ mother and brothers stood waiting to speak to Jesus while he was talking to the crowd. He was told that his Mum and brothers were outside but he said “who is my mother, and where are my brothers?”, and pointing to the disciples he said “here are my mother and brothers”. 

So, here we are in this parable of the sheep and the goats with the family Jesus has extended – with his brothers and sisters, those who are hungry, thirsty, naked, stranger, sick and prisoner and our final judgement is based on whether we have sided with them or whether we have walked by on the other side joining with those who won’t be bothered, or who are too busy, or who think they have enough to bother about, or who join those who scoff at the last and the least pretending that their state is a “lifestyle choice”.

Our final judgement is about our kindness to the last and least who Jesus claims as members of his long lost family. Jesus identifies with them all and it’s his gratitude which places those who follow him and his family on his right hand. 

You gave me food when I was hungry. You gave me drink when I was thirsty. You welcomed me when I was a stranger. You gave me clothes when I had nothing. You took care of me when I was sick. You visited me when I was in prison. 

It’s acts of kindness such as these that sorts the sheep from the goats, that puts some on the right hand of God – the right hand being the the hand of God’s power, the hand of righteousness, the hand that puts things right – and puts some on the wrong hand of God, the dismissive hand, the hand that discards, the hand that says ‘to hell with you’.

(A note on prisons. They served a different purpose in Jesus’ day. It’s where they put people waiting for trial – as with Jesus before his trial, as with Paul, Stephen and John and so many of his brothers and sisters.)

It is about kindness. Kindness appreciates our kinship, that we are one of a kind, humankind. We could say that this final judgement in this parable of the sheep and goats is about the KINDOM extended by Jesus – the kindom (without the g) of the kingdom of heaven. The KINDOM (no G) of God rescues the vulnerable. In the language used by Ezekiel, these too are like sheep and the Lord is their shepherd, searching out those who have become lost, who have strayed, who are injured and who are too weak to withstand the cruelty of the “fat sheep” who “push with flank and shoulder, and butt at all the weak animals with their horns until they have scattered them far and wide.” The kindom of God centres around the victims of the powers that be and those who suffer from the way things are.

Timpsons, the cobblers, is a business that organises itself around kindness. 10% of their workforce is recruited directly from prisons. There are just two rules for staff members: “look the part” and “put the money in the till”. James Timpson is the company’s CEO. He tweets @jamestcobbler, last week listing random acts of kindness of Timpson staff members. It gives some food for thought for those who hunger for kindness.

  • Nigel at Solihull engraved a memorial plaque for a grieving mother
  • Thom at Cambridge cleaned a suit for a customer attending their child’s funeral
  • Raymond at Ponders End donated bone marrow to a stranger
  • Dave at Loudwater gave an elderly couple a lift home with some heavy curtains
  • Darren in Henley bought someone a coffee who was sitting in the middle of the road
  • Terri at Paddock Wood stopped whilst dropping garments back to a branch to help save a person from jumping off a bridge
  • Etc etc

Then the righteous will answer him, “when was it that we saw you?”. It’s as if this final judgement comes as a total surprise to those who are counted as sheep, to those who find themselves on the right side. Nigel, Thom, Raymond and the rest may also be totally surprised to find themselves on the “right side”. “Just as you did it to the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” What they did in kinship and kindness for the grieving mother, the parents who had lost their child, the stranger, the elderly couple, the one thinking of suicide, “you did it to me”, says Jesus.

I don’t know about you but the questions posed by the sheep (on the right side) and the goats (on the wrong side) weigh heavy with me. “When was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?” I struggle to remember when I ever did any of those things, but I can remember so many times when I have walked by on the wrong side, avoiding their troubles.

How do I justify myself in the final judgement? I can’t and perhaps you can’t. Part of it may be that we are pre-occupied with ourselves. And part of it may be that we just don’t know what to do in the midst of so much trouble.

So what do we do?

We can put in plenty of practice. Practice seeing Christ at the heart of his extended family, a heavenly kin(g)dom on earth amongst brothers and sisters who, in the way of the world, are hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick or in prison. Practice seeing Christ not at the heart of a nuclear family, the so-called “holy family”, but at the heart of the family he has extended by his search and rescue as the good shepherd of those scattered, lost and bruised.

Put in the practice of prayer. Grow your prayer from the love of your own nuclear family to this kin(g)dom of God and let the people of his extended family populate our prayers. 

Pray for those who go hungry, depending on food banks. Pray for your brothers and sisters who are parched and who don’t have easy access to water. Pray for your brothers and sisters who come amongst us as strangers, newcomers and refugees, that we may welcome them and that they feel at home. Carry on praying for those who are sick and for your brothers and sisters in prison. 

These are the people to populate our prayers – the brothers and sisters of Christ the king – his royal family. And give thanks for all those who join them, on their side, the right side, in their various practical acts of kindness.

We can never do enough. We are not asked to do enough to save the world. The kingdom of God, with Christ as king, is the kingdom where the last and the least are prized. We may be surprised that Christ makes so much of the little we do, even a cup of water for the thirsty, or a knitted blanket for the poorly clad, or just a smile, a word, or a touch. They are the seeds that grow.

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24

For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land; and I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, by the watercourses, and in all the inhabited parts of the land. I will feed them with good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel shall be their pasture; there they shall lie down in good grazing land, and they shall feed on rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord God. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with justice.

Therefore, says the Lord God to them: I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you pushed with flank and shoulder, and butted at all the weak animals with your horns until you scattered them far and wide, I will save my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged; and I will judge between sheep and sheep.

I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd. And I, the Lord, will be their God, and my servant David shall be prine among them; I, the Lord have spoken.

Matthew 25:31-end

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left.

Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

Then  the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”

And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” Then he will say to those at his left hand, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison, and did not take care of you?”

Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”